The Others
by 2sidedstoryteller29995
Summary: Magic can't fix everything. Harry Potter is not the only Boy who Lived.


I remember it well. The 31st of October 1981. The day our lives changed forever. Though I suppose, looking back the same could be said for everyone.

I can't really say that it was a normal day. It was Halloween after all. But it was more than that. It was our father's tenth anniversary. Our father; Ethan's father and mine too. Not Lizzie's. Robert was her Daddy. Not that she called him that. She never called him anything specific. She just cried. She was seventeen months old. Old enough to stumble along on her chubby little legs, but not old enough to be talking.

Younger than we were when we lost him. Too young to realise just how lucky she was to have two parents. We were about a year and a half when he died. Ethan and I are identical twins. Our only difference is in height. I hit a growth spurt last summer. My older brother (by one minute) has yet to catch up. The same pewter grey eyes, pointed nose, pale skin, mahogany hair which flops down over our eyes persistently. _We were mirror images of each other. Mirror images of our father. _

Lizzie takes after Mum. Blonde curls, eyes the colour of sapphires. Sometimes Robert calls her his angle. He had it wrong. Mum was the angel; for looking after her. She was always grabbing for things and putting them in her mouth. Driving us all mad. _There was a reason we kept our hair short... _

Keeping her entertained was a major issue. Having to sit with her in the backseat of the car for almost four hours was almost enough to make me regret suggesting we ever make the trip. _Almost. _This weekend Robert was on a 3 day business conference in London. This weekend was our alone time with our mother. This weekend, for the day that was in it, seemed to be the perfect time to wander around a graveyard. This weekend was the weekend to do it. _It was now or never. _

That was what we said to each other before we went in to talk to her about it. Surprisingly, she seemed open to the idea. So we set a date. _There was no backing out now. _Not that we wanted to. We wanted to know. We needed to know. To be honest, Mum never knew very much about him, but she did try.

He had lived abroad before she met him, but been educated in the UK. He loved being outside, loved plants, had an active imagination. He was terribly forgetful although a masterful storyteller. He would often tell her great stories. His favourite ones were about dragons. He had great interest in them; for things that have never existed.

Upon hearing this poor Ethan had to press his lips together to supress his laughter._ Sometimes she was so silly! _Even I knew that when people talked about dragons, they meant drugs. A tall, dark, mysterious man. _One who puffed the magic dragon. _I knew what it meant, but I was still amazed. Though as Ethan told me later, a lot of things were drugs; medicines, alcohol, cigars. It didn't necessarily mean that he was a bad person. Robert was certainly addicted to coffee.

Mum wouldn't have liked to hear that we knew so much; about everything. But when you grow up without a Dad, you start figuring things out for yourself. There are certain things you can't go to your mother about. Certain things you can't tell anyone. If she opened her eyes for once in her life, then she would know. But no. She chose to only see the good things in life never the bad. Then there's Robert. The investment banker. I struggle to see the good in him on the best of days.

He did try though. It wasn't his fault that Ethan wouldn't kick a ball unless you paid him a million pounds. Robert made money; good money, from having a steady job, but we would never be millionaires. I couldn't wrap my head around the times tables, let alone credit scores. Once he tried to explain his job to me. Breaking it down, like I was really slow. _Though I realised something quickly enough after that; I never wanted to work in a bank. _So, he stop trying quite so hard then, Spending all of his time with Izzy The one still young enough to be moulded. A doll to be played with. A patient, willing doll that did not talk back.

I could never understand him and vice versa. We have tried on various occasions to make him see. Mum too. But it doesn't do any good. They're just not open- minded enough. I suppose Mum was once though. Her and Dad just decided to get married one day. Just like that. Seizing the opportunity, not caring what anybody else thought. Those must have been good days. _I wish I could remember._ Not that he was around for a lot of our first year. There aren't many pictures of him in the photo album. He travelled a lot.

Mum cares a lot about what people think these days. She takes parenting advice from the nosy Mrs Crawford and reads books about it. Those books have all this information about parenting. I think she must have missed out on some of the parts about raising the perfect child. So these days she mostly focuses on the bits about how to discipline the bad ones. _Us._ She never asked me what happened, not properly. She just took the word of the teacher. She never asked me how I felt afterwards. _Sore. Very sore. _

I felt like I ought to live up to the reputation I was rapidly getting at school. I felt angry. I felt like actually hitting something. Just to make it clear; I never hit Jamie Lyons. I never even laid a finger on him. I didn't throw my plate at the dinner lady. I didn't pour the paint over Mr King's head. I know for a fact that I didn't. Though of course I was never asked. Never asked how I felt about having the blame laid on me for something I didn't do.

Thankfully, I wasn't the only one. My brother. He believed me. He wasn't a fool. Not like they said; he didn't play pranks, he didn't climb buildings. He just tried his best to keep out of sight. He could see it. I could see it. We were different, but at least I wasn't alone.

We got into serious trouble for things we didn't do. Not to mention, anything that actually happened was deemed too outlandish and was simply put down to 'daydreaming in class.' Added in for good measure was 'must try harder.' Ethan was the dreamer. I was restless. But we weren't that bad.

He passed the duration of the car journey looking out the window in a daze. I jiggled around in my chair, checking the time almost every second. Eventually we arrived.

Our parents were never very religious. As we went inside, there was no one else around. So I couldn't understand why Mum wanted us to be quiet. _It wasn't like anyone was there to hear. _I don't really know what Dad would have done if he had been there. Perhaps he would have let us on. Some of my school friends say that they have one parent who lets them do anything they want and another one who's super strict. Mum is both of those, really. It was tough being both. But she managed it well, considering. Sometimes though, underneath her 'tough guy' act you get a glimpse of her more friendlier self.

That's why after another failed attempt, she let us do as we liked. She couldn't find it in her heart to discipline us. _She was probably thinking of Dad. _We knew from experience that it was best to leave her alone at moments like those. Otherwise, she would eat the head off of us. _Kind of like a dragon. _

Robert wouldn't be caught dead here. He didn't know Dad. He and Mum met when we were seven. He has all of these ideas about how to be a great Dad. He might not like us all that much but he sure as hell doesn't like the fact that he was an 'absent father' a lot of the time. Sometimes I wish Robert was absent from our lives a bit more. He simply drones on and on with a voice like a robot. He couldn't have handled the silence in the graveyard. So I was glad he wasn't around for once.

He didn't know we were here. What you don't know won't hurt you. True enough, looking back.

I've always find it tough to pray. We liked the idea of coming to see his grave. I'm glad Mum had him buried in a grave. It would have been creepy to have his ashes in our living room. Like a fifth wheel. At least a grave was a place, somewhere we go to feel closer to him.

We've never been before. At least not that I remember. We've asked, but Mum was never that keen on us experiencing death. _He was already dead, wasn't he? So what was the problem? _ Yet she held firm. With Robert gone, we finally managed to wear her down. So here we were. In Aberdeen, where we lived until we were three. We moved around a bit for the two years after that, before settling in Leeds. It was a long way to come, but it was important. Standing there I think Mum realised she should have done this a long time ago.

None of us really knew what to say. Lizzie babbled away to herself. Both of us stood side by side. In the films everyone always has a heartfelt speech ready, but no words would come. After a little wife we trooped back to the car.

As I settled back in my seat, Mum climbed in too and we drove off. The road seemed to stretch before us and eventually I grew bored of staring out at passing cars. My eyes began to droop until I could no longer hear the soft murmur of the radio.

I must have been lulled to sleep by the rocking motion of the car.

All I know is, it didn't last long.

It seemed only a moment later that I was jolted awake.

In that one split second terror clutched at every nerve in my body; sending a tingling sensation up and down my spine _The only thing I felt. _The only thing I remember.

**A/N: A lot of Muggle stuff in this chapter, but it will get better!**


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